


Fukuro Taker

by Crosschan



Category: Silent Hill
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dominance, M/M, Masturbation, Power Play, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crosschan/pseuds/Crosschan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Pyramid Heads + voyeur James Sunderland</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fukuro Taker

It has a sobering effect, when you pull the trigger. You watch the smoke fly, drunk-eyed and dumbstruck, just like your first-time jerking off. The feeling hits you before you know what the hell happened, and there you are, with a handful of spunk and hell to pay because you haven’t a lock on your door yet.

James Sunderland bobbed his map as he felt that same firearm warm at his hip, seemingly spent from its date with Eddie Dombrowski’s head. Sure, it’d been in self-defense, but that didn’t change anything… death was death, right? Murder is murder. Game over. Quit playing. Nothing more, nothing less. Men are capable of all evils, as it is said. The young widower ran a dry thumb over the butt of the small firearm, thinking of that poor, nutty guy, stuffing his face with pizza, vomiting up a storm in some soiled toilet bowl, crying over some kid’s name-calling. Fat-boy. Blubber-gut. Lard-ass. ‘Nobody’s gonna be calling you anything anymore, Eddie, buddy…’ James jammed his heel into the burnt-out garbage disposal in frustration as he raised his hazel eyes to stare out of the cracked-glass window, past the mesh, and into the lifeless town below.

Lucifer himself held aloft the Bible above this Godforsaken town, and allowed the pages to burn until the hand that held them charred with it. An angel’s palm, blackened by hallowed blood and greed, descending upon Silent Hill together the righteous ashes that so condemned it. James Sunderland gazed out into the late afternoon from the encrusted window ledge that had held him for the last half hour, as he thumbed over his scrawled map. Shit, he’d been studying the thing for what seemed like days now, scrawling on his own routes and placements, without coming a step closer to finding that which had called upon him. ‘Mary…’ he narrowed his eyes at the farce of a day, into the hell’s winter that seemed to last forever, where ashes fell in place of snow… ‘where are you…?’

Traipsing around this smoking hell of a town, hounded by misshapen bodies, tattered, tormented and trapped, like moths that flew from the recesses of his mind… where his sanity used to be. The blond squeezed at a discarded ink-cartridge idly. Huh. Now his pen was running thin.

Did he really want to find her?

James ran a languid, almost latent hand through his dirty gold tresses, sifting his digits and raking his nails against his scalp to wake himself from his mental questioning. He stared wistfully at his fingers as he drew them back, and forced a small smile. ‘I better stop talking to myself, ‘else nobody’s gonna believe any of this mess... nobody. Not Angela, Maria… not even that damn snot-nosed little brat… They’re gonna think you’ve lost your mind, James, buddy, if you start narrating all this shit. Hell, I’m even starting to have my doubts about ya.’

He clawed and flexed his fist as he stood up, tugging his sweater and jacket from the lip of his jeans as he did so, clenching as the material unearthed cold droplets of sweat that ran like stray beads down the small of his back and into his cleft, into that soft blond tuft of fur that was packed, hot and tight, between two firm, rich white ass-cheeks.

Leaning against the doorframe, staring into the dark, shady depths of Wood Side apartments, James Sunderland turned a slow, dogged glance back to the light, that dirty, hidden sun that made his usually vibrant skin pale, moist and gray with shadow and anxiety. Savouring that narrow glance like it was his last, the troubled widower strafed into the gloom, his sullied green jacket fading and melting into the dark like a greenhouse moth.

It didn’t seem as agonizing pacing down the narrow, rank corridors in the dark as it had mere days before. In fact, the gloom and obscurity seemed almost… well… soothing. Like a womb. The sharp, scratching melody of his pocket radio flickered and caressed his ear in the darkness, gnawing upon his lobes as he neared some fetid, ensnared body, and lulling him into a wistful peace as he drew away. At one point, he found himself pressing against a moldering wall, feeling a writhing, balmy form flail and stumble before him, before it fell back and pushed clumsily against his balls with its muscled, ash-covered ass. James held his breath as the awkward demon ground itself back against him again, pitifully attempting to pull itself up and away, unable to free its arms from its binds of flesh, until he finally released his hold and moved on.

‘Where was that room…? The room with that strange old grandfather clock… There were words written on it, right?’ Maybe he’d missed something, some devious sign that his Mary had scrawled for him…

The dead can’t write clues in blood just as they can’t write letters to their grieving spouses.

Ignoring that nagging voice of sanity, the handsome blond walked on, leading himself warily to a corner, before his hand touched cold rust. He tugged at the knob, only to find that it would not budge, as though something thick and foul had clotted up the handle. He gave it a useless joggle and push, before he grudgingly moved along, inching through the shade, gazing after the distant, sluggish light that flickered at the corridors end, until he reached another door. The copper knob didn’t give him an ounce of trouble, and he ran a short-nailed thumb over its bulbous tip in his gratitude, before he turned its world upside down.

The door opened with a promising click, and slid back; harmlessly, soundlessly; without that dreaded creak of age and wear that was inherent in those bogus horror movies that James had drank up as a kid, sitting with a wad of popcorn and a bloated pillow in his lap in the early hours of the morning, when his folks had been tucked up in bed. Sure, he’d experienced fear in his life, real fear, that shiver of cold sweat that creeps up your spine like dead-men’s fingers, and that sinking feeling in your gut that made you feel so helpless that you felt like pissing everything out just to make it got away. But he hadn’t felt like that so much here. Silent Hill was a special place, as Mary had always said. Like a dream… a nightmare that could really screw you up.

He turned, and leaned over a withered, rank old armchair, leafing through the newspaper stacks that had browned at the edges, ends frayed with age and flames, and thumbed under his nose as he heaved an irked sigh. The scent of ashes and earth was everywhere. Foist. Like washed clothes left too long, like age, like something unearthed. Something long-dead without its stink of decay, but with that feral, dirty promise still there. …And there was something else, too. James’s eyes darted to the kitchen as his right calloused palm squeezed at the swollen mattress of the armchair, feeling the heat of a body briefly departed from its comfort. He could smell sex. The unmistakable musk, hot and profound, under all of that innocent age. A masculine scent, a bawdy, uncaring heat that made his stomach tingle with its sexual prowess. He’d sensed it before.

Hazel eyes grew glassy as shadows moved in the darkness that James remembered as the kitchen, and he crouched lower, urging himself to move in lurching, careful squats, before he finally reached the wooden closet, weaved into it, and took refuge. Taking a moment to catch his breath, the daring young widower soon clenched a fist to the wall, feeling that solidity, before he peeked through the many wooden strips that barred him from view, into the living room of the burned out apartment flat.

And there it was. Solid, smooth chest and arms packed with hard muscle that flexed, sweated and boasted with its every move, coveted by a sallow apron overall stained with the remnants of ash, blood, and spunk. All came in floods, sex, violence and dominion becoming kin, and under that triangular prison, James, in his restless dreams had seen that the face caged beneath was his own. A mirror image of his loathing, brutality and wanton lust. He told himself that it was a lie.

What are you doing here? James’ questioned with narrowed eyes, glaring daggers at the muscular, potent being before him, tracing that hard body, with its lazy, but ultimately powerful movements, until his gaze found the writhing creature that was dragged in its wake. The patient demon writhed pitifully as its ankle had been caught, being tugged across the ground like a log too dirty to be lifted over a shoulder, and for a moment, James felt a surge of confused pity for the poor bastard, at the hands of that caged, sex-mad demon.

As his sympathy was piqued, as though that very thought were a meter set, the bloody demon seemed to give a burst of strength and will, and lashed out at the man which held it, causing Pyramid Head to slowly turn a blank stare down. A low, predatory growl emitted from beneath the auburn prison, and the bulking demon threw his prey down, causing it to shriek and turn over on its belly as though to crawl away from its strapping captor’s clutches. However, swiftly, the Pyramid hooded creature clamped a gloved hand to the small of the fleeing demon’s spine, and raised his free hand high above his shoulder.

Booming smacks resounded like cannon-fire in that modest, flame-eaten little apartment, tearing up the hush into a battleground of gloved flesh on quivering flesh. James couldn’t help but flinch at the sheer brutality of the sound, the utter power that was fed into each and every whack as Red Pyramid soundly punished his victim, bruises rising like black tulips over the helpless demon’s farce of an ass, the feeble fleshy tissue clenching and its feeble owner shrieking and crying bloody murder in a long, knife-like moan, before its fight ceased as it knocked itself into unconsciousness, hammering the floor too thoroughly.

The muscled devil paused as his victim’s acute blubbering fell into gurgling murmurs, staring at the barely moving body, before a sultry, aggravated groan issued from the steel prison, and he tossed the leg that he had been holding to the side, causing the creature to go sprawling against the wooden coffee table with it, to slump back down with a harmless thud.

Taker.

I guess you only want it when you can see them squirm, huh, you dirty bastard… James thought with a quiet, reproachful smirk. His eyes glimmered sensitively as his own voice returned to him. ‘But am I so different? Didn’t I want to love my Mary so rough and heavy? Hadn’t I always wanted something… when she couldn’t deliver?’ He knew he must have been talking about that illness… that damned disease that had eaten her away, like mold to an apples core… rather than what she could never, ever give.

He shook his head and gazed back out into the living room apartment, watching that big, broad-shouldered guy move, issuing manful growls as his black leathered boots sank heavily into the dry, grimy floorboards. The Pyramid hooded entity stood over his sleeping prey, one hand lifting up the side of his bulking prison, watching for movement, not quite ready to give up the game just yet. Yet the gloved hand soon descended from his helmet in what James read as disappointment, before he stood stock-still, vision having caught something just out of James’s view. The strapping man leaned down on one knee, and fumbled at the unconscious torso, and the widower’s lips twisted into an uneasy frown, wondering if the guy was going to get a fuck out of that poor bastard yet. Nevertheless, moments later, Red Pyramid rose up, his gloved fingers dragging something black from the lean legs of his demon prey, until the upturned ankles fell back down to the floor, and James’s grimace deepened as he noted the shriveled, dark genitals and tiny pinkened ‘manhood’ that was now visible, and he felt himself sigh with relief as Red Pyramid moved the body aside with his boot, until its blood-spattered, emaciated form was stationed on its front and beneath the coffee table. Out of sight.

The great knife wielding demon, however, did not leave after the ordeal. James watched in bewildered admiration for the huge bastard as he tugged at his overall apron straps, moving hard, tanned muscle as he shouldered out of the flimsy wrappings, twisting and arching back his jutting, sinew-entwined hips as his apron fell further down to expose perfect, bawdy rows of muscle-packed ribs, six thick, solid abs that shone in the pastel glow that was cast by a stray florescent light, and as the material slipped lower, a coarse trail of thick, dark pubic hair that journeyed from the button of his stomach, and then into the black forest before his groin.

The blond widower tore his gaze away for a moment, forcing a firm, disapproving grimace at the unalloyed masculinity that he was witnessing, that he was outright peeping on, before his eyes returned yet again as he leaned in to gain a closer look at what the bulking demon was up to.

Red Pyramid had leveled into a wide, leg-spread squat before that same coffee table, and dipped a creamy-gloved hand into his slipping apron, and unloaded his huge, barrel-thick meat, its dark, silken skin straining with stiffness already, length soaring higher with each passing moment. James shook his head, a fierce, disbelieving grin settling upon his lips as he massaged his temples in exasperated discomfiture. ‘Hell…this can’t be happening, not on top of everything else…come on, big fella, move on…’

But the faceless devil of a man did not feel that discomfort radiating like an inferno from the closet, and instead, he casually stroked his hardening cock, whilst raising his left hand up, which held a pair of ash and soot-hued fundoshi underwear. A gloved thumb rubbed at the material appreciatively as its twin thumbed over the reddened, swollen head of his meat, still straining for the action that had been so falsely promised. Soon the slowly pumping hand departed, leaving the hardened snake to bob blind and deprived, before Pyramid slipped the black cloth over and then tightened it about the base of his hot, pulsing meat, and began to choke it.

James bit his lip as he stared at the demonstration, sweat beginning to bead at his temples, darkening his blond locks into a dirty gray. He’d been in such a state in the last three years of his life that he couldn’t even bear to touch his cock for anything more than a piss…but always wanting more, always wanting that sweet, wicked release to ease his mentality, make him think selfishly and ardently of himself, of his own wanton desire. Watching this bastard jerk off blissfully to himself, no, to a pair of demon’s panties, was enough to start his stomach fluttering, enough to make his blond pubes itch with want.

Tentatively, the widower dragged up his grey sweater, after carefully pushing his green canvas jacket aside, and began to finger the blond tufts that emerged as he tugged the front of his jeans down a tad. He sifted his fingers through the course, light-toned hair, chewing on his lip grudgingly as he stared back through the wooden grates and at the well-built, Pyramid-guised demon as he steadily pumped his thick cock. Gloved fingers grazed the swollen, dark balls as Red stroked down to his shaft, before clenching that powerful fist more tightly and choking the stiff cock towards its wet head, now beading and glimmering with pre-cum.

The young man in the wardrobe-cupboard raked his fingertips, with their stubby nails, through the thin, golden trail that lead up to his stomach button, and steadily urged his hand down, pushing and forcing his fingers into the lip of his jeans, into his briefs, to stroke his uncomfortably caged dick, pressing two fingers along its shaft as if coaxing a dog to pipe down. Down boy… you’re getting way too hard on one sick son-of-a-bitch, James… what’s happening to you?

Shaking his head, and arching his back against the gritty, burned-out wall behind him, hoping to release the itch that had developed upon his neck and shoulder blades as they grew hot and damp with sweat, James barely even registered the growing hum of white-noise and static as his pocket radio screamed within his jacket pocket like so many tormented souls.

He was soon awakened at the sounds of footfalls, weighty, leathered, that surged into the room, radiating dominance and confident authority. The blond stared back out into the sordid picture show, and his hazel eyes widened. There, in the doorway leading to the ashen study, stood another bulking figure of a man, apron half-mast as he plucked at its binds, a patient demon once again, dragging at his heels.

Two. The first with his thick, dark cock being pumped by a hidden demon’s fundoshi, helmet auburn as blood that had dried long ago, and the second with his fat throbbing snake caged and straining under his shawls, helmet the colour of fresh, New Blood. Like tomato puree. Eddie.

James narrowed his eyes; shaking his head and feeling cold sweat sift down his nape into his suddenly-sodden shirt, to join the utter tepid humidity in there, with the intense scent of male want. ‘Why’d I think of …? He just…’ The ex-sales clerk was soon jolted from his inner miasma of guilt as rough thud issued from his side, and he jerked himself up in order to view the unfolding scene. The new devil had relieved his hold of his prey, leaving it to stare up and bewildered, before instincts set and stuck like lard, and it slithered to the doorway, and foul salvation, with an ear-splitting series of shrieks.

New Blood stared down at his comrade, together with his bobbing, slick cock, and threw out a booted heel in a long stride, knocking the auburn helmet back somewhat, unbalancing the shameless demon and causing him to lose his position, shoulder jerking to one side with the impalpable burden of his cage. James stomach turned as he could have sworn that as the helmet fell back, he saw his own chin and glimmering eyes glaring in hateful, lusty defiance under that headdress, coveted in shadow. Oh, God…

The two demons latched and thrashed at each other, bulking, muscle-packed bodies straining and bending as both fought, their heat kindled the room as metal cages trembled and crackled against one another. The helmets ground and issued sharp, agonizing shrieks, as a nail to a blackboard sheet, and the New Blood, together with the old, lay locked together, gloved hands gripping limbs, ribs, and shoulders so tautly that tanned flesh grew white as knuckle-bones, yet the New Blood had advantage of a higher level. His stained, white-gloved fingers reached out, flexing and clenching for his steel weapon of choice, and once he had the frayed handle, the muscles in his back and shoulders hiked upwards, building upon each other as they strained to drag the huge weapon to his side. James rubbed a thumb to the centre of his forehead, eyebrows knitting as he awaited the inevitable bloodshed, his fingers soon falling away from its journey to his eager cock and balls, and forced himself to witness the end of the foreseeable skirmish of supremacy.

Yet, as the handsome blond gazed into the scene through his barred vision, James found himself proved wrong, once again. The heavy blade had been draped across the auburn hood’s jutting chest, his pecks rising and falling manfully as the blunt edge of the blade lay before his thick neck, as a forewarning, a very explicit sign of the loser of their sport. The pinned demon released a rapacious groan, much like that of a wicked spirit, yet so narrowly human that James could have sworn that the guy was cursing.

The New Blood raised his helmet with his right gloved hand, as if to gaze down at his other with a hedonistic look of preeminence, looking down upon that which was his prize. He was the Alpha now. This time he’d get to spear. James crooked his neck, his barred vision impeding him as much as the newcomer who had straddled the first, yet ceased with a soft huff, and smirked to himself, shaking his head in disbelief at his own lust. Are you that way now, James? Would you go that far for a little relief? Or do you think you’ll find Mary in between those two bastards?

The blond felt on the verge of tears as his hand traveled south, yet again, as though it had a mind of its own, seeking a needy organ to nurse, and finding it, warm and throbbing, under a pair of snug levis. Again James stared out of his prison, lips parting as he watched the straddled Pyramid twist and turn, his encaged head allowing him so little movement as his meat was ground against his twin, the black undergarment raking along with it, causing both men to groan and thrust up hungrily into the bind. Gloved hands took up hunks of muscle, kneading them and gripping them tightfistedly. The tanned skin was slick with sweat and heat as the New Blood roughly groped his victim, tugging at the black bind of cloth about the Old Blood’s burning shaft, watching the thick vein pump a steady flow of hot, lusty blood to the swollen mushroom of a head, now releasing a steady flow and dribble of creamy spunk that slithered down and curled about the dark, swollen balls. James felt his heart racing, and he cursed his obviously confused erection as he tugged up his gray sweater, rubbing his damp face into the cloth, quivering as he felt his sweating chest reaction to the cold, sending prickly thrills about his naked muscles. His jeans seemed to unbutton themselves, and his healthy cock sprung up and out of its confinement to greet its host much as a dog to its master, and James obliged it gladly. His lips tightened as his thighs parted, clumsy fingers playing and tugging with his soft, supple foreskin as he stared out into his peepshow, through a drugged haze of livid sex. He didn’t care. Right now, he didn’t give a damn about anything but the snake in the basement, and the blond felt his eyes water as he plucked at his balls, raking a hand over a pale, muscled thigh as he witnessed his tormentors going at it.

New Blood had savagely yanked the auburn-hooded demon’s muscled legs apart, gaining a prompt, impassioned struggle for dominance until the cool blade of the Great Knife was pressed more closely into the battle-hardened pecks, causing dark nipples to harden like zip clasps under it as the prone Pyramid grudgingly allowed his beefy ass to be spread open like a pinned butterfly.

James stared at the unfamiliar sight, into the cleft of the muscled guy so at the mercy of his companion, noting the dark star of hair that decorated the fleshy valley around a tight, puckered pink ring. Without a moments pause, a duo of gloved fingers stuffed themselves into the tight little opening, and the Old Blood’s helmet snapped back as his body arched, an indignant moan issuing like angered thunder from the very depths of his chest, yet, at length, he remained still. His right hand squeezed his neglected meat and its plump balls for reassurance as he groaned with the plunging gloved digits that clawed and curled into his firm ass, stirring him up and stiffening his thick meat like a rod of steel.

James glared as sweat descended into and stung his eyes, as his fist pumped his cock with fair vigour, wanting to feel that exquisite heat for himself, to vehemently fuck that bastard inside out, to feel that tight ring of flesh clench over him, and to grip those firm, rock-hard muscles until he had his fill.

Taker.

The gallant blond, with his humbly striking features, fell back against the wall flippantly, his golden tresses now soiled and shady with the rigour of his jerk-off session, and gradually slumped down, taking long drags up the pulsing course of his rigid staff as he did so, his jacket and shirt scraping and hiking up against the wall so that his taut nipples were bared to the utter darkness. He muffled a short, whimpering pant, as he hit home, and gazed up through the wooden bars that shed boxy whip-lines of radiance across his fervent form before the stilted door was ripped wide open.

***


End file.
